Horseman of the Soul by Rumi
Time’s tailor has never made a robe for anyone
Without then slashing it to pieces.
See how the million fools of this world
Pay Satan heaps of gold for pain!
Don’t stretch out your legs on this earth-carpet,
It is a borrowed bed; fear that day
His messengers come to roll it up forever.
How can you go on gazing at the body’s dust?
Search out the Horseman of the Soul!
Train your vision with passion and longing,
And see the Horseman at the heart of this dust-storm!
Without then slashing it to pieces.
See how the million fools of this world
Pay Satan heaps of gold for pain!
Don’t stretch out your legs on this earth-carpet,
It is a borrowed bed; fear that day
His messengers come to roll it up forever.
How can you go on gazing at the body’s dust?
Search out the Horseman of the Soul!
Train your vision with passion and longing,
And see the Horseman at the heart of this dust-storm!